Yesterday I was busy waiting for Safellight Repair to show up and fix my windshield. Nothing major, just a starburst crack about the size of a quarter on my passenger’s side. This is probably the third or forth time I’ve gotten my car’s windshield fixed in the past year. I’ve had my car since September 2019.

I don’t know at the point if it’s a common occurrence or not to get your windshield fixed as many times as I have. Is this just one of those hazards that happen? Is it because I live in a suburban area now because I really don’t know. I don’t have any farm equipment to blame it on now like I used to.

I actually have a long history now of run-ins with farm equipment. My nickname at work used to be “Crash” after I had gotten my first car and a full license.

I finally got my permit when I was about 18, and my provisional license right after. I hadn’t gotten much time behind the wheel, despite both of my parents having their CDLs and being drivers for a living. By the time I had received my provisionals I was older than most of the other students in my driving class and had the least experience. Yet, despite all the odds going against me I ended up passing the written and driving portion of the exam. Someone in the DMV thought even though I drove like three drunken baboons in a trench coat, it would be perfectly fine to give me a provisional license and set me out to terrorize the world.

Look, Ma! No hands!

My family was poor, all of my parents cars are 3rd generation handed cars off of someone’s yard. Since I wasn’t mechanically inclined I was advised my first car should come off of a used car lot. So I got my decade old car off of a hand me down lot with a obscene interest rate and $1,000 down thanks to the questionable advice of my parents.

But I wanted my own car and my father was getting tired of giving me rides everywhere. Besides, I was 19 and didn’t want to go into my 20s as being the only one without a car. So I was excited, and I ended up purchasing one even prior to getting my provisionals even though this meant my dad still had to drive shotgun with me to work until the end of the month.

Week 2 of taking my car to work was when I had my 1st accident. I was scared my front end was hanging out so far on the shoulder that a passing combine was going to hit me.

Normally, you’d assume that the best option would be to back up because I hadn’t left the driveway. Right?

My teeenage brain…my little black hearted, screamo band listening to brain thought….

What if I just floor it?

I look over at my Dad before I moved out. Drinking his coffee. Unsuspecting.

And I stomped on the gas and floored it as fast as you can on an unpaved driveway out onto one small road that’s speed limit is 40mph going left.

My Dad screams. I’m pretty sure he probably regretted the reverse vasectomy at this point.

I was pretty good at defense. And I would’ve been okay. If there wasn’t another teenage white girl coming around the combine the other way.

I turn to deflect her and end up on the other side of the road and hitting her back passenger door.

Remember we’re both not going fast. We’re both fine-ish. For legal purposes I’m not going into.

We squared up though, and all is well now. Thank you to my car insurance.

The combine just kept rolling down the street, leaving a mess of chaos and cars all over the road behind him.

Of course neighbors came out to make sure we were okay. I called out of work and was lectured pretty severely by my parents. My friends made fun of me all summer as well.

So that sucked. And I’d wish I could say all was well after that. But I was only 18. Young, Dumb. Young, Dumb….and without money.

Anyways, I hope that story was at least entertaining. Subscribe if you want more storytelling.

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